


What Happens After Midnight

by SeverinadeStrango



Category: Sengoku Basara
Genre: Akechi Mitsuhide is His Own Warning, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Manipulation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mind Games, Surrealism, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 00:34:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17415569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeverinadeStrango/pseuds/SeverinadeStrango
Summary: What happens then is not up to him.  But it is all that he has left.





	What Happens After Midnight

Mitsuhide did not know what time it was, nor did he know how long it had been, so long it was since he had last seen a window or even the sliver of light from underneath a door that might have further informed him as to where he was, when he was, everything. But it was him and the futon mat and the blanket and Matsunaga’s arm draped over his waist, seemingly limp and harmless but that single arm held more strength than Mitsuhide could have ever comprehended. There was nothing in the world that he could have done to escape that hold, even if he wanted to (he didn’t).

In the late hours, the hours where nothing moved, Mitsuhide would breathe and realize just how heavy his chest had become how hard it was to lift an arm a finger an eyelid. Rest your weary head now you have travelled all this way – but it had been to receive punishment. Punishment is not soft blankets and gentle hushing words punishment is pain but it is not not for this one this one this traitor this failure.

Matsunaga was not asleep, as Mitsuhide had previously thought. He was very much awake, eyes open, although he was relaxed – content. Utterly assured in his own control of the situation. Mitsuhide was hopeless and he knew it better than his own keeper did.

“You are here,” Matsunaga murmured, and Mitsuhide could feel the vibrations from his throat, his chest, his head was buried in the crook of Matsunaga’s shoulder as he closed his eyes tight. Maybe he could hide away. But that would be the coward’s way he had yet to atone he had yet to make his payment and this was, decidedly, the greatest torture of them all he would embrace it. “Break, now.”

It was more of a cough, that first awful sound, and Mitsuhide did not even recognize his own voice as he simultaneously screamed and sobbed, his bones rattling in their sockets even as Matsunaga held him now, the biting kisses along his neck making him want both more of it now and to crawl right out of his skin this is not Nobunaga-kou how unworthy how traitorous of him. 

“Give me my punishment,” he whispered, breath hitching with every syllable, “Matsunaga-dono, my, my _punishment,_ I need – “

“I know.” He was not smiling this time. Mitsuhide could not read him – and while he usually was an impenetrable mask of sorts, much in the way that kou had once been, it was as if steel-doored vaults had been added thrice over. Lock me out I do not deserve to be let in, even if he was doomed to throw himself at the door again and again until his skull was bloodied and destroyed. “I know.”

Mitsuhide curled inwards on himself. He understood perfectly.

He expected to feel the hands again, the comforting touch of what little familiarity he had left, over his shivering shoulders, down the line of his back, further down, coaxing those little noises from him. He’d cry sometimes, most of the time, actually, because this was as familiar as it was going to get (how hungry he was for it). Matsunaga-dono and his fingertips that would draw blood sometimes if he was feeling merciful enough, the whispered words that hurt more than the cuts, but instead they only stayed still, Matsunaga-dono held him still and swayed, just barely, but enough so that he could feel it, held and wrapped and he couldn’t tell where it ended or began, nor did he want to know.

His whole world waited for the start and end of that door opening of those blankets rustling of those hands and those arms and those words and whispers sometimes the hands would wander sometimes they would cause pain he loved it wanted it needed it embraced it all. It was everything he had left. He had single handedly destroyed whatever else there was.

Mitsuhide waited for day to retreat. He waited for Matsunaga-dono to return, the only constant factor in his life, because while it might have seemed like the late-hours were his punishment, it was every lonely moment that he was forced to endure otherwise that were the most torturous times of all.


End file.
